


That's What I'm Waiting For

by pantykinksam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Sam, Dean's reflection on Sam's death, Happy ending for a death scene, M/M, sad but sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantykinksam/pseuds/pantykinksam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence. Ringing. Dean’s ears were ringing or maybe it was the flatline in his head, Dean didn’t know. His baby boy was dying, and fading fast, scattered breaths, and Dean’s shattered voice, raspy in Sam’s ear, choked out “Sammy.” And “little brother.” And Dean doesn’t remember anything else, doesn’t /want/ to, because his baby is gone and he’s not coming back and it’s worse than any pain Dean’s ever felt and his head’s still screaming and he wants a drink but his baby’s /gone/ and he can’t even pull himself to his feet so he’s stroking Sam’s hair and and then he’s reeling back again, gasping for breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What I'm Waiting For

**Author's Note:**

> If you know what song this is based off of I'm literally in love with you.

It was like everything was moving in rewind, and Dean saw everything in quick, black and white flashbacks, like screwing with the tape of a crappy security camera. Up against the peeling wallpaper, arms crossed and chewed nails digging into the warm flesh of his arms, he was so lost in thought he almost let himself forget his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, the crumpled beige sheets and blankets exchanged for clean, smooth, white ones, though Dean can’t remember why he thought that was such a good idea. Anything for Sammy, though. Always had been that way. Dean jolted, the thought of Sam bringing him back, eyes twitching and landing back on his Sammy, who lay against the sheets, cold cheek against warm stiff cotton, arms folded, still clothed in his jeans and jacket. Dean whimpered, falling beside the bed, head in his hands and elbows on the bed, propping his head against his palms.   
So fast, it all happened so fast, that fucking, bastard, I’ll kill him-   
And then Sam was collapsing and falling into Dean’s embrace, and there was yelling and gunshots and then-  
Silence. Ringing. Dean’s ears were ringing or maybe it was the flatline in his head, Dean didn’t know. His baby boy was dying, and fading fast, scattered breaths, and Dean’s shattered voice, raspy in Sam’s ear, choked out “Sammy.” And “little brother.” And Dean doesn’t remember anything else, doesn’t /want/ to, because his baby is gone and he’s not coming back and it’s worse than any pain Dean’s ever felt and his head’s still screaming and he wants a drink but his baby’s /gone/ and he can’t even pull himself to his feet so he’s stroking Sam’s hair and and then he’s reeling back again, gasping for breath.  
He’s in the car, head back in a yawn, toes curled as he groans, stroking Sam’s thigh, sleepy yawn turned to lazy smirk.  
He’s at a diner, Sam’s head nuzzled into his shoulder, and he won’t touch his pancakes. Swears the waitress is a demon. Dean wishes Dad had dragged him in so deep that the boy hasn’t even graduated high school yet and is already scared of everyday people.  
He’s kissing Sam’s temple, coaxing him to sleep with a pat at the comforter, gripping his wrist to pull him down to him as he sits at the end of the bed, tears in his eyes.   
And Dean sees it now, all the stupid fights and arguments, now not worth the breath they took. Bickering in the backseat, bloodied cheeks and busted lips from broken hearts when his baby boy left for college, left his brother for something bigger.   
Dean thought back to all the ways he’d fucked up, destroyed, and he backed away, clearing his throat. Sam was better off. Alone. WIthout his brother to hold him back. He slipped out the door, paid the man up front, and gunned his engine, baby brother still on the mattress. Dean touched his lips. Could still taste Sam’s. Taste the look in Sam’s eyes. He backed out. Pictured Sam on the bed one last time. Looked out his rearview mirror one last time, like he was waiting for something to happen. Wished he could say sorry. Maybe that’s what he was waiting for.


End file.
